So apparently my muse really likes me lately. Because I was not planning on expanding this. At all. I barely planned the last chapter. But my muse insisted, so here it is.
All chapters are one shots. On my archive account, I am making this into a series. But since doing a series is a pain on fanfiction, I am adding all further sequels to the original story. They do need to be read in order and they are a continuation of one another, but they are written as separate one shots, not stories. I'm stressing this because they sound too choppy if read as a normal story.
I am also keeping this marked as completed because I don't know how many stories are going to be in this series. I have a few more written after this one, but nothing more actually planned. Another reason I am stressing one shots. No cliffhangers here. Promise.
summary: Victor gets dragged to a crime scene by Sherlock and meets the officers there. Or, more accurately, he has the dubious pleasure of meeting Sally and Anderson. And sees how they treat his best friend, which is just not on. They probably shouldn't have called Sherlock a 'Freak' where he could hear them. That was their first mistake.
A Study in Protection
"John, Victor! Lestrade just text. We have a case. Come on," Sherlock shouts excitedly from the kitchen.
Both John and Victor raise their heads and look at the detective from the other room. Victor had been reading and John had been updating his blog. Now John smiles in relief. It had been three days since Victor had arrived and while he did distract Sherlock, the man was still being insufferable. A case is just what he needed. He gets up. "Yes, yes, patience Sherlock, the case won't run away from you."
Victor nods and gives a small smile. "Have fun," he tells them.
Sherlock looks at him, just looks, while he slips on his coat. "Of course we will. You're coming as well," he informs him in a matter of fact tone of voice.
"Lock?" Victor looks confused.
The detective rolls his eyes. "Yes you are, now come on. The case doesn't have to run away, Anderson can contaminate it instead. He always does." He leaves, coat swirling dramatically after him. "Come on!" he shouts from the stairs.
John laughs. "Better just give in," he advises, "There's no changing his mind once it's set on something."
Victor gets up and puts his coat on, following John out the door. "Oh, I know that. But I don't understand why he is set on me coming in the first place. It's not as if I can be of much use to him. His deductions are fascinating, but I can never keep up. Never have."
"He likes an appreciative audience," John answers with a fond smile, "Besides, are you honestly surprised? The man had to accompany you to your hotel to get your things. Why wouldn't he drag you to a case with him?"
"Wishful thinking I suppose."
Sherlock has already hailed a cab by time they exit the building. The three of them slide in and Sherlock tells the cabbie the address. He is practically vibrating with excitement. His leg bounces as the streets pass by and he fiddles with his mobile.
John lays a hand on his leg. "This is a good one I assume?"
"It should be at least a seven, John. A seven! A triple homicide with no evident cause of death."
The cabbie gives them a cautious look from the mirror at his excited tone. John meets his eyes and the man raises an eyebrow. John shrugs in return. Victor covers his mouth to hide his smile.
"Sounds fun, but please remember not to be quite so visibly excited when we arrive, yeah? You know it never goes well."
Sherlock waves him off. "They talk no matter what I do. Sally has been accusing me of being the murderer for years. As if they would find the bodies if I did," he snorts in derision.
Now the cabbie turns pale.
John sighs and Victor outright laughs.
Sherlock looks offended. "They wouldn't," he tells them.
"You know I believe you," John reassures him, "but might I remind you what that sounds like to other people? They tend to take it the wrong way."
Victor turns to the other two men. "Should I be worried? This is a detective accusing you of being a murderer?"
"Sergeant Sally Donovan," Sherlock snorts, "We have never seen eye to eye."
"That's an understatement," John says drily, "The first time I went with Sherlock to a case, she regularly addressed him as 'Freak' and he told the surrounding officers about her affair with Anderson. It didn't get better from there. Not that I blame him," he adds thoughtfully.
"Please, as if their affair was a new thing. That information surprised no one at all. And she has always called me that, since the start."
Victor's face tightens with displeasure. "Does she now?" he asks calmly. Too calmly.
Sherlock nods, not catching it, his mind on the case. John, though, does and gives him a nod. Good, maybe between the two of them they can get her to stop. As long as they don't get arrested for assaulting an officer, that is.
They arrive at the crime scene and John pays a very relieved cabbie, glad to be rid of them. John has long resigned himself to this. "Ta," he thanks, wondering how there isn't a memo about Sherlock among them. With how many cabs they take, someone should have by now. Maybe he is new.
Fortunately when they enter the building, it is Lestrade that greets them. Neither Sally nor Anderson are in sight. So far so good. John really doesn't want to deal with them today. And Victor probably shouldn't, judging by the look on his face. Apparently protectiveness is a trait all three of them share.
"John, Sherlock," Lestrade greets. "And who is this?"
Victor holds out a hand. "Victor Trevor," he grins, "I apologize, but it was Sherlock's idea. If I didn't come of my free will, he would have dragged me here by my collar."
Lestrade sighs and shakes his hand. "DI Lestrade. Not your fault," he assures, "but he has to stop bringing people with him. Technically he shouldn't even be here half the time."
A snort comes from behind the DI. "Oh look, the Freak has dragged another poor sod with him. And he's now resorting to violence to collect 'em too."
Sally. Wonderful. Anderson comes up beside her and sneers. "Here to infect another crime scene? We are doing just fine without you here."
"You have found a cause of death then?" Sherlock raises an inquiring eyebrow at the two.
"No," Anderson admits sulkily, "But we will. We don't need help from the likes of you."
Even more wonderful. It's going to be one of those days.
"Well then, it sounds like you need my help after all. Now, if you excuse me," he pushes past them, John and Victor following.
Sherlock starts examining the first body as John joins him. Victor stands back, shoulders tense, but with a small smile of his face. He leans against the wall, careful not to touch anything that could be important. Sherlock is in his element, talking to himself and John in a quiet voice.
"So what's your story?" Sally asks, coming to stand next to him.
"I beg your pardon?" he answers coldly, raising an eyebrow in an eerily similar way to Sherlock.
Sally ignores his tone. "Your story. You must have some reason to be with the Freak. He has already deluded one poor sod. I hate to see him fool another."
Victor crosses his arms. "I believe my story is none of your business and I would thank you not to inquire of it. As for why I am with 'the Freak', as you so crudely put it, it is also none of your business. But since you asked so kindly, I'll tell you. It's because I want to be with him."
"Why?" Sally asks, as if it is the most impossible idea on the face of the planet.
"Again, it is none of your business. Personally I find it alarming that an officer of the law sees fit to treat a civilian in this manner. Especially one who is voluntarily doing your job for you."
"He is not doing my job. I am perfectly able to do it myself, without his interference. His unasked for interference. And-"
"Funny," he interrupts, "I believe Lock said that your DI text him and asked him to come. My mistake. We must have come here coincidentally. Or maybe he used his superpowers to come here and annoy you?" he adds sweetly.
"Lock?" she repeats incredulously, "you call the Freak 'Lock'?"
"Yes. Because he is my friend. And as his friend, I do not appreciate hearing him called such things. I would ask you to stop, but obviously that has no effect, as I am sure John has done the same. So if I keep hearing it, I will be filing an official complaint."
She snorts.
"And I will be filing it with his brother, not DI Lestrade. I assume you know of his brother?"
Sally shivers.
"Oh, I see you do. Excellent. And I assure you, he will take this personally. He is very protective of his little brother. I should know, I have been on the other end of his threats as well."
Ignoring all common sense, "And yet you still are with him?"
"Yes. I deserved it." He turns his gaze back to Sherlock in a clear dismissal.
Sally huffs, but walks away. Good. Hopefully that works. Or Mycroft will be involved. Victor may have abandoned Sherlock, but he has always cared for him. It is not the detective's fault he ran.
John looks over when he hears the huff. He had been half listening to their conversation with a satisfied feeling. Maybe Sally will listen when she sees it is not just him who cares for the detective. And she can't accuse Victor of being blind because of a convenient shag. Unless she thinks all three of them are involved. He wouldn't put it past her.
"John, what do you make of this?" Sherlock asks and John turns his attention fully on the body below him.
Victor smiles at the two. He can see how well they fit together. He hopes he can find his place with them as well. Sherlock may want him to move in with them, but that does not guarantee anything yet. But he hopes none the less. He misses their easy friendship from years ago.
"Yes! Of course, it is so obvious, how could you not see it?" Sherlock exclaims and rushes off.
John stands up more slowly, looking at where Sherlock disappeared fondly. He clasps Victor on the shoulder. "Time for the reveal," he jokes.
They walk outside to find Sherlock already explaining everything to Lestrade. The two men go and stand beside him to listen to the explanation and praise the detective. Sherlock preens under their attention. It is adorable, really.
Anderson crosses his arms, clearly pouting. "I could have figured it out," he informs the general area.
Victor raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
"I could," he directs his focus to Victor. "I don't need this Freak to do my job for me."
Victor clenches his fists. "I have already kindly asked Sergeant Donovan not to call him that. I ask you to do the same. I also might remind you that Lock is human and has feelings just like the rest of us, despite what you seem to think."
"He's a psychopath!"
"He's my best friend!"
By now they have drawn the attention of the crowd.
"How can you be friends with him? He's more likely to murder you in his sleep than care about you."
Victor sees red. John wisely turns, extremely furious, but ready to restrain Victor if he decides to attack the other man. No matter how much he might want to himself.
"How dare you," Victor growls, "How dare you say something like that. You don't know him. You don't know anything. Sherlock has been the best friend I have ever had. Don't you dare tell me he doesn't care. I know very well he does."
"If your his friend, where have you been? I haven't exactly seen you around. Did you leave? Good decision there, but why would you come back if you escaped him once?"
John grabs Victor as he lunges towards Anderson. He holds him back with a grunt. "You pompous, arrogant, stupid, bloody moron of a bastard cock! You want to know why I haven't been around? You want to know why I ran? Because my Father had just tried to kill my best friend when he accidentally uncovered his past dealings with the Mafia. That was before, of course, he became completely unhinged and tried to kill us both! Forgive me for being distressed that I had to kill my own Father to protect us. So sorry that I was young and frightened and, after it was ruled as self-defense, I ran. I abandoned my best friend because I couldn't handle it. It never had anything to do with him. So keep your bloody mouth shut about things you don't understand? Got it?"
Anderson gives a shaky nods and flees. The rest of the officers are silent.
John releases his hold, but still stands close enough to let their shoulder brush in silent comfort.
Sherlock comes over and wraps an arm around him on the other side. "Let's go home," he says gently.
Victor nods.
No one stops them as they leave.
